


Steel Wool

by Riathel



Series: 200 Word Challenges (Based on Prompts, Kinks, or Whimsy) [11]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 200 Word Challenge, Classic Doctor Who References, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, The Year That Never Was (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riathel/pseuds/Riathel
Summary: Prompt: hair-washing, TenSimm.The Master needs the Doctor’s hair to be the way that he remembers it.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), The Doctor | Theta Sigma/The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era)
Series: 200 Word Challenges (Based on Prompts, Kinks, or Whimsy) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609660
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Steel Wool

Beneath his fingers, the Doctor’s hair is exactly as the Master remembers it from their childhood. Beautiful ribbons of smooth, weightless silk. The colour matches his memories perfectly: a dark brown to complement his own. They’ve always been equals. Rivals. Friends. Enemies.

This morning, the Doctor was making jokes; pointed barbs designed to wedge underneath his skin, to extract his impurities, to make him weak. _You’d have to be the worst hairdresser this side of the northern hemisphere_ , he’d said.

_Wouldn’t need to wash your hair if you weren’t so filthy,_ he’d replied. It’s true. He doesn’t have any flaws; but the Doctor does. If he can perfect the Doctor, he can perfect everything.

Now, the Doctor says very little.

His hair is mesmerising. The strands have been cleansed of grease, water running down his head and neck. He’s staring at the wall, eyes red, mouth parted. A bit of blood runs down his cheek; the Master brushes it away. The skin on his scalp split during the last couple of washes, peeling away beneath scrubbing.

He opens the shampoo; the Doctor breathes in shakily.

“Please don’t,” he whispers.

The Master smiles, lathering up his hands. “You’re not clean yet.”


End file.
